A gloriously blogworthy eventFrom earlier in January- because Jenn says I don't post enough on here:
I have had a fan-freaking-tastic weekend. It has lifted my spirits to new heights, which, after a week of snow-slogged punches, was a delight and a joy. Last night as I made my way home from Langley/Surrey, I got the call to hang with Rachel and Jenn (this is important, I am setting the cast). Now as far the idea-factory for Saturday night leisure activities, we were, ahem, not squeaking out many wing nuts, if you know what I mean. I suggested skating outside somewhere. They objected to the cold first and foremost, but then also protested that they knew of no such outdoor location (um hello, the world is frozen- and every single farmer’s field was flooded before the second blizzard of the century hit, creating an ice rink). So we figured we would meet at my house and then venture out long enough to find a movie. But to my surprise when they arrived, I was summoned to the chaise and was whisked away not to Video-land, but rather towards the big shiny lights of Vancouver.
Where we landed: a Vancouver landmark which, unbeknownst to me previously, turned out to be an Italian gelatoerie, with 218- count them- flavours (including garlic and jalapeño and strawberry, which is a waste of time if you ask me). Oh the delights and ecstasy. Now, I must also comment my delight somewhat stemmed from devilishly laughing at the irony- remember that Jenn and Rachel objected to skating because it was cold, however their alternative was going for gelato on one of the coldest nights we may get all year.
But the fun didn’t stop there. This gelato place was in east van- always a dodgy place at the best of times, so what should we do but drive around looking for a good time, which we found, oh and how! We spied in the sky some bright spotlights. Batman? Blockbuster opening? Either way we were going to get to the bottom of it. Off we went, a good ten blocks or so and trying to find the source of the searchlights. Next thing we know we are at the PNE. Yes, dear reader, we landed in the middle of the Snoop Dogg concert. At first we were a little unsure what was happening at the coliseum, but when two g-units and their respective baby-girls came out, it was pretty darn clear.
Well, mystery solved, now what? Well when you are in east Van where else is there to go but North Van?? So we hopped over the bridge to harass Mo. The ensuing hours were full of harassment, Patty Mo tea and a whole lot of photos (which I display below for you). The pinnacle of my evening was only just getting started.
Some of you may or may not know that one of my secret dreams has been to learn how to play the drums. Last night, I got to play the drums. Yes, that’s right. I can’t quite die a happy woman, til I actually play them well, but at least I am half-way there. I can play them… sort of. Tick, one more thing off the list. Next stop: WHL.
Last night I thought the adventure ended there. If it did, t’was quite a goodly adventure. But today it continued. I got my skating. The fields behind the church were frozen over and Rob, Rachel and I with Zieg’s looking on, took Elvis Stoijko to town.
And now, please Regarde and Pense:
 I have noticed in the preceding hours just how ubiquitously they are called “farmer’s fields” and not just fields, even though that is a ridiculous tautology- if they are fields and part of a farm, then it follows that they belong to a farmer. Nevertheless, everyone is entitled to their peculiar redundancies.
 a movie which, if at all displeasing to them, they would most certainly blame (unjustly) on me.